


Ghostly Living

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warnings: Language, established relationship,<br/>Genre(s): Angst, fluff/romance, hurt/comfort<br/>Summary: They are both the same, but so very, very different</p><p>Written for the rs_games 2010 on Livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghostly Living

**Ghostly Living**  
  
Remus punched his pillow, trying to give some support to his aching neck. It had been aching for most of the day, along with the rest of his bones in the lead up to the full moon. The bedroom was silent, devoid of even the deep, even breaths of his bedmate's slumber.  
  
“You awake?” Remus muttered, reaching up to rub at one eye.  
“When was the last time I slept?”  
  
Sirius' laugh was somewhat hollow and Remus rolled his eyes at the ceiling. For all the years that had passed, his best friend was still the drama queen he had always been. Remus turned onto his side and propped his head up.  
  
“Go on then,” Sirius yawned. “You first.”  
“Me first what?”  
“Why are you awake in the middle of the night?”  
“Can't sleep.”  
“You always did like stating the obvious,” Sirius snorted.  
“Shut it, you.”  
“Well, come on Moony... you used to sleep like the dead at school. Now you're all...”  
“Boring? Old? Decrepit?”  
“God, Remus, don't blow your own trumpet. Your head won't fit through the door.”  
  
Closing his eyes, Remus found himself too tired to even smile at Sirius' sarcasm. Once upon at time it had moved him to reeling laughter; so many things that Sirius had joked about had made him laugh.  
  
“Oh God, when this comes out, it's going to be deep, isn't it?” Sirius regarded him with wide eyes.  
  
Unable to take the extra pressure on his neck, Remus struggled to sitting and rubbed his hands over his face. He was used to the quiet. So many years without Sirius had made him forget how to deal with the constant chatter, the quips and the fact that the man seemed to be able to pre-empt his every emotion.  
  
“Spit it out.”  
  
A warm hand smoothed up the plane of Remus' back, calloused fingers moving over the protruding vertebrae of his spine.  
  
“Too skinny,” Sirius murmured beneath his breath; Remus personally thought that was a bit rich.  
  
Although his lover had been removed from the walls of Azkaban prison for a year, he hadn't regained much weight. His face was finally clean-shaven, and Remus had broken three combs trying to untangle his hair, but when it boiled down to it, Sirius Black was skin and bones -in body, and in mind.  
  
“I used to think I was in hell,” Remus breathed, staring at the opposite bedroom wall. “All those nights when you weren't here. Getting used to being alone in a double bed. Not feeling you here... but I think this is worse, Sirius.”  
  
“How?”  
  
The answer was immediate and demanding, petulant to the very tee of his family name.  
  
“You're not you any more,” Remus answered simply.  
  
In many respects, Sirius was exactly himself. His humour still shone through; his eyes could still sparkle and yet, they could also assume a dead, cold stare. The moods came and went, and Sirius perked up whilst Remus was left watching for the signs which hinted that the warmth would recede and he would return to living with a ghost.  
  
Leaving the bed without another word, Remus shuffled onto the landing without stopping to pick up his dressing gown. The air of the house was warm thanks to the oddly hot summer the country was experiencing, and as he made his way down to the kitchen he made designs on opening the back door and enticing a cool breeze around his ankles.  
  
Remus smiled his usual smile as he unlocked all five of his muggle mother's security locks on the door; her paranoia had never been calmed by magic -in fact he was mostly sure it had exacerbated it. She had never trusted his father's wand to keep them safe. After he was bitten, everything had increased tenfold, and Remus couldn't entirely blame his mother for her anxiety. Finally, after his sleepy fingers had finished fumbling over the latches, Remus let the wood swing open and turned back to the kettle. Out of habit, he reached across the worktop and twiddled the volume knob on the radio to get some noise in the kitchen.  
  
He had spent years with silence, and craved for it again, to be away from the man who shared his bed --but when Remus _was_ alone, all he wanted was noise.  
  
The strains of the local radio station filtered into the kitchen as a welcome friend.  
  
He filled the kettle in the sink, idly humming to the tune playing.  
  
“Are you saying that I don't remember how we were?”  
  
Remus jumped with surprise and sloshed cold water over the rim of the sink and onto his belly.  
  
“Bollocks,” he hissed, as droplets trickled down the cupboards, heading to the floor. “Sirius-”  
“Answer me,” Sirius was suddenly close behind him, and his breath was hot in Remus' ear. “Do you think that sitting in that shit-hole I forgot it all, because I wouldn't let myself think about it?”  
“N-No,” Remus stammered, weakly trying to get the kettle onto the hob.  
  
Sirius' fingers smoothed over Remus' naked hips and his lips crashed down onto his throat. “I remember it all, Remus. I remembered how you smelt,” the dark-haired wizard took a deep drag from Remus' flesh. “I remember how you taste,” a moist tongue flicked at one earlobe. “I remember this song.” His voice dropped to an intimate whisper. “And how it used to make you smile.”  
  
Remus said nothing as the kitchen plunged into darkness around them. Sirius kept his mouth close to Remus' ear, occasionally peppering kisses on the nape of his neck where he saw fit. His grip had become iron-tight about Remus' waist, cradling him, offering comfort that Remus wasn't sure that he knew how to accept.  
  
He didn't complain when the stronger wizard behind him began to rock him into a gentle sway to the beat of the music. Remus simply closed his eyes and willed the clock back thirteen years. They had been worried, during the run up to Voldemort's disappearance. Their days had been fraught with missions and the fear that, just maybe, they might find a message saying that the other had been injured, or far worse. Remus swallowed the thickness in his throat, knowing that those days were coming again. That families would be torn apart, that loving mothers would lose daring sons, loving partners would lose their soulmates, and friendships would be ruined.  
  
“I adore you,” Sirius murmured in Remus' ear. “Never doubt that.”  
“I don't doubt it,” Remus promised, shifting his hand so that it rested over Sirius' on his chest.  
“You're different too, you know...” Sirius offered, his voice hardening.  
“How so?”  
“You never smile any more. And you're Remus -even when you're at death's door, God, you manage a smile. It hurts me not to see you smile.”  
“It hurts me to sit there and watch you be dead, when you're alive.”  
  
They fell into silence, still rocking to the same rhythm even though the original song had long since finished.  
  
“That song always made you smile. You didn't smile tonight.”  
“That song reminds me of you,” Remus confessed.  
“So what are you saying, Moony?”  
  
“I'm saying it's tainted,” Remus breathed, unable to hold back.  
  
Somewhere between crawling into bed and crawling back out of it in utter desperation, the barrier to his honesty had crumbled. Perhaps it was the sleeplessness, or perhaps it was simply that he had reached his limit, but Remus felt his resistance turn tail and flee.  
  
“You know how I feel about moonlight?” he stared out of the back window, where the garden was lit by paleness from the sky.  
“I think I remember,” Sirius' voice was tight.  
“Well that's how I feel about you. And music.”  
  
Remus threw a filthy look at the radio. It _couldn't_ be that every song was played to evoke his memories, to force him to remember a hot body and manly scent, or the laughter, or the tears -or every single moment he'd ever experienced in his entire cursed life.  
  
It only felt that way, most nights, when he was up and alone, sleepless, unable to bear the silence yet unable to bear the music at the same time.  
  
“I know,” Sirius whispered. “Of course I fucking know. I'm not stupid, Remus.”  
  
Remus went when Sirius turned him with forceful hands, pressing his backside into the cool metal rim of the sink. He didn't bother with chasteness; he looked boldly up into Sirius' grey eyes and found them empty.  
  
“I can't see a way out of this,” Sirius shook his head slightly, not breaking the stare. “Not when I'm your moonlight -the thing that you love, and the thing that hurts you at the same time.”  
“You've always hurt me, and I've always loved you,” Remus licked nervously at his bottom lip. “Why should that change because we're adults?”  
“Shut that fucking thing up,” Sirius' wasted face creased with irritation, and his eyes flicked to the radio.  
“Why?” Remus asked. “Because it hurts to hear the music from when we were happier?”  
“Smoking spliffs and getting off our faces on James' dad's nicked firewhiskey...”  
  
Remus simply stared at him.  
  
“I told you,” Sirius frowned. “I remember it, Remus. But talking about it is a different... thing... all together. That's re-living it, and we can't re-live it, because we're the last two decent ones left. Just us. And I wonder how much longer that'll be the case.”  
“Planning on dying?” Remus felt his throat constrict.  
“Just like last time,” Sirius reached up and laid his palm on Remus' cheek. “It's a possibility. For both of us.”  
“Last time was slightly different, though,” Remus barely moved his lips to speak; one of Sirius' eyebrows twitched in question. “Last time, Sirius, I didn't think you'd embrace death if it came for you... and now I think you'd fling yourself at it, just to get away.”  
  
The radio prevented the kitchen from plunging into complete silence, but it might as well have been off. Sirius didn't even breathe as he considered the painful words, and Remus waited, just as strung out -just as horrified by the truth.  
  
“I won't leave you,” Sirius' voice was broken as he finally answered. “And I won't leave Harry.”  
  
The name of Lily and James' son bounced around Remus' mind for a good while without touching the sides, without meaning anything. It should have meant _something_ , but all he could register was Sirius' foolish promise on the brink of war. He had never allowed those words to be spoken the last time.  
  
“This is the most human you've seemed in days,” he blurted awkwardly, as the words tumbled from nowhere directly into Sirius' face.  
“And you too,” he replied.  
“Well I'm not human,” Remus pointed out.  
“And I love you anyway.”  
  
Sighing, Remus could tell that their conversation was over. The radio still played, and Sirius still held him, but the man in front of him sent the shutters down; the mist descended, visibility reduced, and Remus was alone once more.  
  
The soulful kiss took him by surprise, and caused him to moan into the warm mouth which assaulted his own. Sirius' hands smoothed up his back to pet at his hair before tangling his fingers within it. Remus let his body be pressed backwards into the sink and didn't complain when his spine ached; he had craved the calibre of kiss they were sharing for far too long to ruin it.  
  
The gentle puffing of Sirius' breath was musical accompaniment enough for Remus, who flung one hand out to grope for the radio, desperately trying to find the knob to turn it off.  
  
“Don't,” Sirius growled, and pulled back. His lips were deliciously red, plumper than usual from their exertion. “Don't bother.”  
  
He leant forward for a gentler kiss, and Remus reached for him, but the wizard pulled away.  
  
“I'm going to bed, love,” he muttered sullenly. “See you in the morning.”  
“In the morning,” Remus frowned at his retreating back, wondering what had changed so quickly, what had been right one minute and so very wrong the next.  
  
Sighing, he turned off the radio and looked at each of the dark corners of his kitchen. Soon they would be leaving; they expected word from Dumbledore at any given point that he wanted them to take up residence in the old Black town house.  
  
He could only hope that the prospect of Harry, whom Sirius so dearly wished to get to know, would bring his lover through the darkness of returning to the family home that he had left in his youth.  
  
Remus wasn't quite sure, however, what would bring _him_ through. At that moment, his usual standbys of music and love were failing him, painfully entwined, and inseparable.


End file.
